Nod To The Future

Poetry

If you must walk alone

then so be it.

Leave it to the wind

and never look back…

step out alone

and be okay with that,

but if itโ€™s love

one day theyโ€™ll see that.

One day the mistakes make sense.

You start to understand

that youโ€™ll make mistakes again,

you know you get things wrong

and somedays things really arenโ€™t alright,

but youโ€™ll be okay,

because theyโ€™ll okay with that.

And theyโ€™ll be okay

so be patient and wait for that.

Capital Conditions

philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts

E049BB86-CFD8-4206-A907-718F5FFF5238Radicalised by pain,
sufficiently conditioned to reject
the meritocratic myths and
barely interested in conditional freedoms,
liberal bourgeoisie notions of self,
the sort of ideas that pave the good intentions to hell.
The sort of hell fashioned by the idea that our practices,
our ways of organising are anything more than ideas…
anything more than the brain children
of those who existed in a society prior
– the sort of society that they themselves once wished to redefine.

๐’ฏ๐‘œ ๐ฟ๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“๐’พ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“ˆ๐“ˆ

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts

AD66209C-E437-401B-B097-40994F69AE94

หœโ€*ยฐโ€ข.หœโ€*ยฐโ€ข Written Paintings โ€ขยฐ*โ€หœ.โ€ขยฐ*โ€หœ

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด,
๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด
๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ท๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜บ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ;
๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ
๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ด ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ.

๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ๐˜ด,
๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ข๐˜ญ – ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ
๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ญ๐˜บ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ด,
๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ
๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต.

๐˜ž๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ต ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด.
๐˜—๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ต ๐˜ข ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด,
๐˜ช๐˜ง ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฅ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ.
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ตโ€™๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ,
๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ.

Hฬถaฬถpฬถpฬถeฬถnฬถsฬถtฬถaฬถnฬถcฬถeฬถ

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

๐˜ž๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ?

๐˜๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง

๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฑ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ

๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ.

 

๐˜Š๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ

๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ,

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ท๐˜ฐ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด,

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ต ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ถ๐˜ท๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ

๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ด – ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ.

 

๐˜Š๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ด,

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ๐˜ซ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต

๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ,

๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ,

๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด,

๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ด, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด.

 

๐˜Š๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ฏ,

๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜บ

๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜จ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜บ, ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ,

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜บ.

๐˜ˆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ช๐˜ตโ€™๐˜ด ๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ญ,

๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ด,

๐˜ข ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ… ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ.

๐Ÿ†ƒ๐Ÿ…ท๐Ÿ…พ๐Ÿ†„๐Ÿ…ถ๐Ÿ…ท๐Ÿ†ƒ๐Ÿ†‚ ๐Ÿ…ฐ๐Ÿ…ฝ๐Ÿ…ณ ๐Ÿ††๐Ÿ…พ๐Ÿ…ฝ๐Ÿ…ณ๐Ÿ…ด๐Ÿ†

Poetry

What misery awaits us,

were a life of sorrow

the reality of living;

I wonder,

could life be worth living,

weโ€™re it not for wonder?


I wonder.

 

What glory escapes us,

were a life of bliss

right within our grip;

I wonder,

could it all be so different,

had we clung to our wonder?


I wonder.

 

 

Busy For The Moment

Poem, Poetry

For a moment it things were bliss.

For a moment I heard the birds.

For a moment my visions were coloured,

for just a moment, forever were a grasp away.

I were the lively one

and you were coy,

for a moment, if only a moment,

we felt peace and we experienced joy.

Busy in wonder: Who Knows, Maybe Iโ€™ll See The Glass Half full…

Insight, philosophy, thoughts, Uncategorized

If only for myself I write these thoughts, Iโ€™ll write yet more, to satisfy my own yearn for expression, my own desire to be heard, to matter, to be greater than the some of my parts. I know that my mirror reflects a man greater than itโ€™s shown, a man with potential untapped and projections uncapped. I see a man of honour, I see a man of trust and wisdom. A man whoโ€™s allowed experience to guide him but knowledge to shape him. I see him stand, I see him speak, compassionate and firm, a glaring light.

Yet still most days I wonder. Most days Iโ€™m aware of who I am, who I was and who I would like to be – and I wonder, had my previous self been a little more free, free to think free to read, free to learn, free to be; and he had stood before that mirror would he see what I now see? And if that be true, then had time been wasted? Maybe. Or maybe itโ€™s the experience that allows context to be applied to new knowledge. Maybe itโ€™s the pain, maybe itโ€™s the memories, maybe itโ€™s the thoughts that only I can access, in the darkest corners of pneuma that even allow such a reflection to be possible.

These moments lead me to think that my vision isnโ€™t in-spite of experience, but tethered to memory of all ilk. What I mean is that hope is a result of understanding ones experience and supplementing that with knowledge. Iโ€™m saying that growth in and of itself is doomed vanity hunt. For I could educate myself one thousand times over, make all the right decisions on paper and still not be a better Asya.

Hope is my wonder and Iโ€™ll be forever busy…

Iโ€™ll Read This Later

philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts

Written today, Iโ€™ll read it later,

penned September, remembered forever.

Better days both ahead and behind,

the beauty of life, thus the wonder of time. When I read this later Iโ€™ll know,

how things panned, not how they penned.

When I read this later Iโ€™ll understand,

who I am and how things went,

what will be when all is said

and who Iโ€™ve become once this ends.

 

Whatโ€™s decided now, Iโ€™ll visit then,

for only time will bring understanding.

Only history can judge my steps;

for we are all but footnotes in the end,

Seen 24 summers and winters too.

Where it pours it shines,

where itโ€™s cold there is warmth,

on this journey of mine

who knows whatโ€™s due.

So Iโ€™ll visit this all later, for now Iโ€™ll leave this to you.

 

Hereโ€™s to my 24th season.

Asya Valentine โœ๐Ÿพ….

 

 

And, If Somehow This Finds You; Mรฉrci, Mon Amie!

Poetry

Iโ€™ll remember the joyous days, the moments of wonder, the smile I wore, within your presence and so much more.

Times forever,

yet scarce – and wasted,

mortalities reason.

Yet, if given a thousand years;

Iโ€™d still remember our time together.

The spills, the laughs, the moments that made me wish a single moment could last forever…

The moments that visions are built on,

the moments that myths yield, I shall forever shield, for they are moments that I refuse to relinquish.

For if I had a thousand more Septembers;

no less of those moments will I remember.

You shaped my world,

revived my hope,

which made my world.

So if those moments must pass, then let that be, let moments fade to memories – just capture them.

If time is forever, then so to is our bond.

And if somehow… if somehow this may find you;

mรฉrci, mon amie, mรฉrci.

Still Busy In Wonder,

Asya Valentine.